


Beggars Can't be Choosers

by PL1



Series: The Angel and the Mouse [2]
Category: Supernatural, The Borrowers - All Media Types
Genre: Caught, Escape, Pest Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 21:09:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13912272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PL1/pseuds/PL1
Summary: Oscar's worst fear looms over his head. Pest control has arrived at the motel where he makes his home within the walls, and he has to make the tough decision to leave before he's discovered. His only option comes in the form of a pair of drifters in one of the rooms, Sam and Dean Winchester.





	1. Chapter 1

Oscar was out of breath by the time he returned home. His frantic glances gave his house in the walls a warped, scary appearance. Normally, home was safe. It was drafty at times and he couldn’t let dust collect for more than a day before it overran him, but it was _home._ He could go there after a day of foraging supplies and sit on his ring box chair to sew or burrow into his blanket nest to sleep.

Now, he couldn’t stay. It wouldn’t remain safe for long.

He’d seen it through the office window. A large, white van parked in a visitor’s spot. The logo on the side was for a pest control company.

He didn’t stay to find out how much they planned to do. There was no time, and it meant they’d be on the lookout anyway. That would lead to humans watching closer. Setting traps.

Maybe even checking the walls and finding Oscar’s safe haven inside.

He almost ripped the curtain in front of his pantry down in his haste to pull it aside. The shelves were sparse, but Oscar would need to take as much as he could. His hands shook as he distractedly bundled his stored food in scraps of cloth and plastic. It had to take up as little space as he could make it.

His heart fluttered as he tucked the food away in his cloth bag. There was still room for more inside, and he shifted things around as he knelt by his ring box. Underneath the satin lining, the foam setting of the box had two spare sewing needles poked into it. Oscar retrieved them and pinned them alongside their twin in his latest sewing project. That was bundled away into his bag, too.

It was time to go. Oscar couldn’t carry much more without slowing himself down. He shot one forlorn glance at the nest of blankets that was his bed before leaving his home behind. He closed the door as tightly as he could, but who knew if it would matter?

His trek through the walls took him towards the other side of the motel. He rarely made the trip, because of the long walk and the division between the two sides, but he couldn’t leave without seeing if the others knew. They needed to reach safety just as much as he did.

He was in the vents when he heard it. Something down the long line of metal corridors snaking through the walls, something _clanged._ It reminded him of the sound of the furnace turning on after a long summer of minimal use.

No warm air came. Oscar stood silent and frozen for a long moment and waited, but the air in the duct didn’t move. He inched towards the sound, squinting in the dark as if it would materialize an answer. His heart pounded in his tiny chest and the seconds drew out longer and longer with no more signs.

The duct echoed with another _bang_ and Oscar squeaked.

He huffed, but his frustration melted away when he heard the muffled tone of the motel owner, a nice older lady who tended to project. She had to be at least a room away, but Oscar, accustomed to the sound of her voice since he was a young child, picked out her words one by one.

“... Have to cut the drywall? … Almost broke the air duct!”

“Sorry, Ma’am,” mumbled another voice. Oscar had never heard it before in his life.

Pest control. They were already opening up the walls for whatever they planned to do. The man delved into an explanation, but Oscar didn’t stay to hear it. There would be no getting past that to get to the others, and he couldn’t be anywhere near when they started their inspection of things.

He ran. His tiny legs didn’t carry him very far with each stride, but Oscar made up for it the best he could. His cloth-wrapped feet landed silently in the air duct as he rushed away. He needed to find a safe place to hide, and _fast._

He put another motel room between himself and the broken section of wall before he slowed down. Heavy breathing still didn’t make a sound as he trekked, though Oscar’s heart pounded in his ears.

Something heavy hit the floor in the nearest room. It jolted Oscar out of his thoughts and he nearly released another squeak of fear. Whatever had dropped had clattered together. From the sound of it, a human in the nearest room had tossed his bag against the wall. The earthquake was familiar.

“See that pest control van outside, Sammy? Think they’d help out with a little vampire infestation?” a voice joked as the owner of the bag stepped away from where he’d dropped it. Confidence ran in an undercurrent to the loud voice. Oscar paused to hear for a reply.

The man was talking about _vampires._ The confusion was distraction enough for Oscar’s desperate run to stop.

At first, there was only an amused scoff. Then, “Sammy” answered in a tone that suggested the first human made jokes like that far too often. “Let’s just hope they’re not here for _roaches._ “

The first human snickered, and Oscar shuddered. The derision in “Sammy’s” voice was clear, and Oscar knew that _he_ was the pest they didn’t want to see.

He shifted his bag on his shoulder and started again on his trek through the vents. While the humans talked more, he found himself tuning them out. Even discussions about vampires didn’t hold his attention for long. He needed to find out what he’d do, especially if the pest control man put poison or traps in the walls.

If that happened, his safe home would no longer be safe for him. Even if they didn’t find his little hovel tucked away inside the walls, the paths would become dangerous and deadly for him.

He reached another crossroads and paused once more. He listened to the room with the would-be vampire enthusiasts one more time and froze as the first human’s latest words sank in.

“We’ll head out after I _sleep in,_ you mean,” he groused. “Who needs to rush out before the sun’s up?”

The Sam one scoffed again. “Just figured we wouldn’t want to waste our time if there’s not a case here, Dean,” he answered. “We’re not here to see the Breckenridge tourist traps.”

‘Dean’ wasn’t convinced. “And go where in such a hurry, huh? Haven’t seen any signs of Lucifer lately, and no calls from anyone on anything big somewhere else. Besides, we’re low on cash, so I _should_ hit the bar.”

Oscar fidgeted where he stood. They planned to leave the following day. Drifters. They would likely find another motel to stop at by the same time tomorrow.

Maybe they’d find a motel that wasn’t full of traps and poison.

It wasn’t a good option, but Oscar wasn’t sure he had _any_ good options to choose from. He glanced around to remember where he was, and soon set off towards the vent into the room. He could at least see what kinds of people they were. Then he could decide.

It wasn’t the first time someone his size had to consider traveling with an unaware human. Sometimes, a place became unsafe and desperation inspired all kinds of things.

Like Oscar thinking seriously about stowing away with a pair of humans that joked about _vampires._

He reached the vent in time for one of the humans to wander by towards the bathroom alcove. He blanched. The man’s boots alone were huge, maybe even big enough to squash Oscar’s entire house in a single step. From his angle low to the ground, he couldn’t see all the way up to the human’s face until he was already at the bathroom counter. He was huge, and the flannel shirt he wore would be enough fabric for several blanket nests.

The other one was standing near the nightstand between the beds. He was enormous as well, and Oscar could see the intent look on his face in profile as he stared at the pamphlet explaining the TV channels.

Both of them carried themselves with a confident air that Oscar recognized. He’d seen a lot of tough guests in the motel before, drifters on their way to another job with no care for uncertainty.

They were scary, but drifters were his best shot at finding a new motel home, someplace familiar. It would make things easier after having to leave the only place he’d ever known. Oscar didn’t _want_ to go, but at least these humans had given him a better chance of making it without pest control ever finding out.

He glanced down the air duct the way he’d come, and then settled down to wait near the vent.

~~~

Eventually, Oscar found out which of the two was “Dean” when the man announced he was going to the bar. The slam of the door vibrated all the way through the walls to where Oscar sat waiting, contemplating. The longer he thought about it, the less he wanted to go through with it. He had never tried stowing away with humans before.

With only one human in the room, he felt it safe to creep forward and survey what they’d brought with them from the very edge of the vent. He could easily duck back into the dark if there was any sign of the gargantuan Sam noticing him there.

They had a couple duffel bags, well worn and decently full. Standard drifter fare. He imagined several sets of clothes, maybe some toiletries packed within. The side pouches might contain snacks.

Those would be a good option, except the snacks might make them more likely to go looking around before he wanted them to. The bigger compartments would be scary to hide in, and Oscar could only imagine being trapped under too much fabric and finding himself stuck among the folds. There was nothing for it; he’d have to examine the bags up close eventually before he decided.

Of course, there was one other bag. Sam had it sitting on the floor next to the table where he sat poking at his laptop. Oscar watched him warily for a moment. The human was leaning forward and the light from the screen partially illuminated his intent eyes. He didn’t even seem to care that his fluffy bangs were hanging down in his face.

Oscar returned his focus to the laptop bag. It would be more cramped, but it had side pouches, too. A computer was more likely to be carried carefully. Maybe Oscar would be better off with Sam’s stuff rather than one of the big, intimidating duffel bags.

The human heaved a sigh so sudden and so heavy with frustration that Oscar flinched back from the vent. When he leaned forward again, he found Sam leaning back from the computer at last and rubbing at his eyes, before slamming the laptop closed with a sharp _clack!_

Next, he rose from his seat and reminded Oscar just how enormous he was. Sam would probably easily reach the ceiling so high above if he were so inclined. Oscar watched with wide eyes as long strides shuffled the human into the bathroom. He could not afford to forget that he was dealing with _giants,_ unaware or not.

While said giants were out of sight, Oscar made his next move. He slipped through the metal slats of the vent and into the room, where his heart rate immediately skyrocketed. Out there, he was exposed, and if someone glanced his way he would have to run.

Even without someone looking at him, he bolted, straight for the dresser nearby. He only had a few feet to go and he’d have a better position to get to whichever bag he settled on as soon as the humans gave him another chance. It would be simple.

He did not count on the bathroom door opening again so soon.

Only a few inches before he ducked safely into the shadows under the furniture, there was a thunderous “Woah--shit!” behind him. Even as he darted under cover, Oscar knew it was too late.

The floor trembled with heavy steps and Oscar all but dove for the middle of the space under the dresser. His heart pounded so fast that it seemed like one beat melded into the next.

There was one final earthquake that toppled Oscar over as the human all but threw himself down on the floor. A shadow hid the room from view, and a pair of huge hands planted on the worn carpet. Oscar pushed himself backwards to the wall in time for part of a face to dip into view, one hazel eye dilating as it tried to focus on him.

Then he fell still. The human scanned under the dresser, and for a blessed moment he thought maybe the shadows were enough to conceal him.

“Dude, what?”

The confused whisper dashed his hopes. Oscar’s shoulders bunched up almost to his ears and he balked away even further. There were no escapes into the wall from under the dresser in this room. His only escape routes were back at the vent, and another under one of the beds. Both would require him to come out from under the dresser, and he was _not_ going to do that while a human was out there.

A staring contest began between them. The giant human called Sam watched Oscar, and Oscar watched him. One stared with interest and curiosity, and the other with terror for his life.

He sucked in a gasp when one of the hands moved forward. Sam fit his hand underneath the dresser, but a few inches past his wrist his arm was too thick. His fingertips lifted from the carpet as if he might still reach, and Oscar drew himself back even further.

Sam’s lips thinned to a line and he drew his hand back. He had to squint, but Oscar somehow knew there was no escaping that keen gaze now. He was good at blending into the shadows when he wanted, but he had caught the human’s attention completely.

“Come on out of there,” the human said. His voice was softer than the barbed sarcasm he’d used with Dean, but Oscar didn’t trust it. Lots of humans baited traps with honey. He shook his head.

Sam huffed. “It’ll make this easier on everyone if you just come out.”

Oscar shook his head again, more vigorously than before.

Sam showed him half of a bitchface for that, and shifted where he knelt. As he settled in, more tremors rumbled through the floor and Oscar drew his knees close to his chest. He was as patient as anyone could be; he _had_ to outlast the human. Sam would have to get up eventually, and maybe Oscar would find an opportunity to dash back to the vent.

The quiet standoff didn’t last as long as he expected.

Metal scraped and clicked from the door, and Oscar’s eyes widened as it swung into the room. He only saw a sliver of the view from under the dresser, but it was enough to see the evening shadows on the sidewalk outside as a pair of scuffed leather boots carried the other human back into the room. His troubles had gotten twice as bad.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oscar has a rough time when the Winchesters, not knowing if he's friend or foe, catch him sneaking around their room.

Dean’s cocky, gruff voice rang out as he let the door slam behind him. “Would you believe there was not a _single_ barfly hanging around--Sammy. What are you doing?”

Sam took his focus off of Oscar for only a moment to answer. “Dude. There’s something under the dresser.”

Dean scoffed somewhere high above and out of sight, but his boots stomped closer. Oscar flinched with every step. “What? Are you seriously freaking out over a mouse?”

Sam sounded exasperated. “Dean, if it was a mouse, I wouldn’t care. I don’t know _what_ it is. Gimme your flashlight.”

Dean finally reached the dresser, and Oscar’s eyes stung with tears of worry. Sam’s face reappeared at the edge of the dresser, and soon Dean’s jean-clad knees hit the ground too. It wasn’t long before half of his face appeared, set in an intent frown.

The only difference was he held a flashlight in one of his hands. The beam was like looking straight at the sun after so long hiding in the shadows. Oscar threw his hands over his face hastily at the same time both humans gasped.

“What the hell?!” Dean all but barked.

“Dude, I know,” Sam agreed.

“Is _that_ what pest control is here for?”

Sam scoffed. “I don’t know. We aren’t gonna find much out while it’s under the dresser, though.”

“It.” Oscar shuddered nonstop while their loud voices rumbled under the dresser. They didn’t see him any differently from the mice and bugs they hated. He _was_ one of the intended victims of pest control, whether anyone knew it or not.

Sam and Dean knew now. Oscar peeked up to find the light still shining on him and the humans watching him closely.

Dean shifted where he crouched all the way on the floor. In an unknowing mimic of Sam, he tried to reach his arm under the dresser while still training the flashlight on Oscar’s tiny shape.

He didn’t have any more luck than Sam did. Dean’s arm couldn’t fit under the edge of the dresser, and though his fingers twitched in Oscar’s direction, they did nothing to coax him closer. He stayed huddled as far back as he could until the human huffed in frustration and yanked his arm back out from under the dresser.

“Sonofabitch,” he muttered. “Guessin’ you’re not gonna come outta there yourself, are ya?”

Oscar squinted in the brightness, and shook his head. He’d already answered Sam that way; it wouldn’t make any difference to show Dean he understood as well.

They’d come for him no matter what he did.

Both of their faces disappeared and the flashlight went away as the humans sat up. Oscar rubbed at his eyes in a vain attempt to get rid of the spots lingering in his vision. From blinking at what he could see of them, he had no idea what they had planned. Their legs shifted and their boots planted on the carpet to push them to their giant heights, and Oscar didn’t know what that meant.

For a moment, he wondered if they were backing off to try to coax him out. Then, everything around him became an earthquake.

The dresser all but lurched overhead, scraping against the wall and shaking Oscar away from it in a frantic dive. He pushed to his feet as the dresser scraped along in one direction, all from one human putting pressure on it.

Panic careened through Oscar’s bloodstream more than oxygen. _Knowing_ humans had strength like that was nothing compared to _seeing_ it. He darted in the wrong direction under the dresser before turning on his heel to try to follow it.

He turned too fast. His legs were too shaky from fear. He hid in the wrong spot. Could have. Would have. Should have. Oscar hit the ground just as the shadow of the dresser slid off his legs and finally came to a creaking halt.

Another shadow replaced it soon after, and though he scrambled to crawl back to safety, something heavy and strong and warm settled over his legs.

Oscar cried out in terror as the hand shifted and a thumb and finger each bigger than his body pinched around both legs and dragged him backwards. His bag nearly came loose from his shoulder, and he gripped the strap tightly as the carpet fibers tried to claw it away from him. He was forced into the open with everything he owned in tow.

Then, the hand lifted _up._ Oscar tried to twist free, but both of his legs were locked in that grip, an insurmountable obstacle for someone as small as he. His stomach filled with ice as he lifted away from the floor and the inches became a foot became two feet while everything in him wanted to remain rooted. The safe shadows under the dresser retreated away from him and soon were no longer an option.

He was captured. He dangled with his heart pounding in his ears and his legs locked in a harsh grasp. The hem of his shirt bunched up and his middle was exposed to the chilled air. The world was a blur and Oscar's nerves fired in rapid, terrified confusion.

The human that caught him was already partway to his full height before he thought to cup his other hand underneath Oscar, like a living platform sliding into place beneath him. Oscar’s heart faltered with the thought that he might drop onto the waiting palm and be cocooned in a fist.

If that happened, there would be no stopping it. He could be crushed until no life remained in him, if the human wanted that.

He didn’t drop. Once the ascent to giant human height came to an end, another low squeak of fear escaped Oscar’s heaving chest. He clung to his bag and finally took a moment to notice who captured him. He looked up and found Sam’s eyes boring into him from an upside-down face. The enormous hand that pulled him out of his hiding place was Sam’s.

That slack jawed stare didn’t last long. He lowered Oscar to his other waiting hand in lieu of dropping him, and kept his resolute focus on his captive. Oscar tried to curl into a protective ball as the palm moved up to greet him, but when Sam finally released his legs, he collapsed in a heap instead.

The skin was thick and it radiated heat. Oscar could count out a heavy pulse beneath him as he scrambled to right himself. He sat up with his bag clutched close and his body curled around it as much as he could. Sam was still staring at him. Oscar’s vision blurred with new tears.

He found out where Dean had gone when his gruff voice broke the silence. “Bring ‘im over here. We can get to the bottom of this.”

Sam turned, and his whole hand moved along with him. Oscar curled up more tightly around his bag, but watched his surroundings with teary eyes. He’d never had a perspective of the room quite like this. His stomach was queasy.

Dean waited at the table. Sam turned away from the dresser completely and closed the distance, while Oscar twisted around to keep a wary eye on the other human. It only took Sam _seconds_ to cover so much ground.

Oscar found himself held high above the ground with two humans looking at him. Sam’s gaze was curious compared to Dean’s distrust, but both of them shared an intensity that pressed in on Oscar despite not being enclosed in a hand yet. He trembled so much, he wondered if they could see it.

“What _is_ he?” Dean asked. For a second, his frown deepened and he scanned Oscar’s tiny appearance for answers.

Sam shrugged and the action bounced Oscar on his hand. Before he could right himself, Sam’s other hand appeared. Oscar yelped as it closed in and nudged at his arms, thinner than twigs compared to Sam’s fingertips. One fingertip briefly touched his face, and then his wild hair. “Dunno. It … he’s shaped like a little doll.”

Oscar opened his mouth to protest, to insist that he was _not_ a doll, but the words refused to come. Instead, he squeaked as one of Sam’s long fingers curled around his arm to tug it away from his protective hunch. He balked, but it gave the human an instant long enough to pinch at the fabric of his bag curiously.

“He even has a little bag,” Sam observed. Oscar’s strength was no match for him, and in moments his bag was yanked away from him. He fell to his hands and knees on Sam’s palm and watched his bag sway in the pinch grip of Sam’s other hand.

“Alright, little guy, c’mere,” Dean said. Before Oscar could look his way, the other human reached out to take him from Sam. A finger and thumb once again pinched his body, this time around his waist, and hauled him up. Oscar yelped and kicked, but soon he was held before Dean instead.

Those intent eyes glanced over him before Dean’s lips pursed. Oscar’s tears, covering his cheeks, didn’t convince the man at all.

The hand shifted so it encased Oscar in a fist from the waist down. He wouldn’t fall, but he could be squashed if Dean added much more pressure. Oscar pushed on a giant knuckle and tried to twist free while the humans watched.

Dean raised one skeptical eyebrow. “How’s that workin’ for ya, munchkin?” Oscar froze and stared at him in continued terror. He didn’t know what the derisive question _meant._

Sam, apparently, did. He sighed, and the sound carried more exasperation than words would have. “I guess we know he can’t just zap away or he’d have done that. Maybe it’s some kind of fairy?”

Dean glanced away from Oscar for only a second, but his eyes were drawn back quickly as if Oscar was a magnet. “I dunno. Fairies should have wings, right?”

“I have no clue,” Sam admitted. “But we aren’t gonna get anywhere like this. Let’s give him a little space, here …” as his voice trailed off, he used a sweeping motion with one enormous arm to push the laptop aside.

Everything became motion again as both humans sat down. Oscar, still locked in Dean’s fist, shut his eyes against the vertigo as he moved around at the whim of an enormous hand. He doubted Dean even realized how much his motions translated to Oscar. Humans rarely noticed things like that.

The grasp around Oscar’s body loosened before that motion stopped, and a cry of alarm blurted out of him. His eyes shot open and he tried to grab at Dean’s fingers, but they sprang away from him as the human opened his hand and let Oscar go.

Fortunately, he didn’t have far to fall. Oscar’s cloth-wrapped feet hit the table after only two inches, and he stumbled. Somehow, he kept enough balance not to topple over, shaky knees and all.

Out on the table, Oscar was on display. Sam and Dean sat on either side, making it impossible to face them both at the same time. Sam still held Oscar’s bag in one hand, but his focus was solely on Oscar. It looked like he wanted to grab him up again to take a closer look, judging by the twitch in his free hand. Oscar shuddered.

On the other side, Dean watched him with an inscrutable frown. Oscar found himself standing with his feet close together and his shoulders bunched up as if he might shrink away so they couldn’t stare. He missed the shadows that normally hid him from sight.

“Alright, munchkin,” Dean broke the silence, “ tell us what you are. Why were you sneaking around in here?”

Oscar trembled. He opened his mouth, but no answer sprang forth. Even if he knew what to call himself, his voice had abandoned him to his fate. Whatever that fate _was_ in their captivity.

Sam sighed, and Oscar whirled to face him instead. His huge face leaned closer, and there was more sympathy there than in Dean’s expression.

It didn’t matter much. He still loomed overhead, and Oscar’s trembling continued.

“Look, we just want to make sure you’re not dangerous, okay? We can never be too careful. If you tell us what you are, it’d be a big help for your case.”

Oscar’s brow pinched and his lips quivered. He wasn’t cut out for this. He shook his head and shrugged helplessly. Sam’s broad shoulders dipped almost imperceptibly as his kind demeanor failed to coax an answer out.

“Alright,” Dean groused. “Guess it’s time for a checklist.”

When Oscar faced him again, the human had a dull silver flask in one hand. He twisted the cap off with ease, and even that action was more than Oscar could accomplish. The flask opened and Dean tilted it to let some of the liquid within onto his fingers.

Oscar squeaked when Dean flicked his fingers at him. Several drops of water soared his way. He balked when they struck him, soaking his face and chest. As he stumbled back, his surprise stole his balance and he fell to a seat.

“So, not a demon,” Dean noted as casually as can be. Oscar brushed water from his face and gave the man a wary, skeptical look.

Dean smirked in return. For a moment, a part of his terrifying facade flickered away, but it returned in an instant. “I got one more test for ya, munchkin. Don’t panic,” he warned as he stowed the flask away in an inner pocket of his jacket. Then, he leaned down to reach for something below the table, face in a concentrated pout.

When he straightened again, Oscar watched Dean’s arm until his hand reappeared. A flash of metal glinted in the light, and his eyes widened.

Dean held a knife in his hand. It looked so small compared to him, and yet the bright blade was longer than Oscar was tall. Dean clutched it carefully, but the moment his hand even _twitched_ in Oscar’s direction, it sent panic through him.

His words finally came. “No, please!” Oscar threw himself backwards on the table. Adrenaline shook in his every nerve, and he collapsed like a de-stringed marionette.

He glimpsed his tiny bag set on the table over near Sam, but lacked the strength to crawl for it. Tears streamed down his face and he sobbed openly now before curling up into a ball and covering his head with his arms. The trembling fear gripped him more tightly than Dean had done moments ago.

Sam scoffed out another of his exasperated sounds. “Dude, you couldn’t have used a silver bullet instead?”

“Those are all in the car!” Dean protested. Something metal clattered to the table, and Oscar flinched into an even tighter ball. Tears squeezed out of his eyes and his breaths were never deep enough to satisfy his aching lungs.

“Dean,” Sam said, his voice rolling like thunder overhead no matter how he tried to keep his volume steady. Everything was too loud, too bright, too heavy for Oscar as the terror sank in deeper and deeper under his skin. Sam’s earnestness was lost on the small captive. “If we keep on scaring him, I don’t think we have a prayer of getting any actual answers out of him for what he is. That knife is bigger than he is!”

Dean argued, but Oscar didn’t hear. His sobs came to a halt as a word broke through his terror haze.

Prayer.

_If you encounter trouble with humans, I encourage you to pray._

The words echoed out of his memory in a gravelly voice, aided by the deep confidence of a pair of blue eyes. Oscar had nearly forgotten his chance encounter in the intervening months. After a brief streak of the extraordinary, things had returned to the routine so fast he could almost have imagined it.

But he _hadn’t._ Oscar had fallen and broken his leg, and if he hadn’t met Castiel the Angel, he would still be recovering from it. If he’d even have survived it at all.

He pushed himself up from where he’d fallen. His arms were as weak as a baby deer, but he managed to push himself up so he sat on his knees. At some point during his attempt to pose himself right, the humans noticed and their argument died away. Oscar did his best to ignore them.

His hands shook, but he wiped away the tears from his face, a failed attempt to clear his thoughts. With a pair of giant humans looming on either side, the task was impossible. His head throbbed with pressure, but he sniffled and ignored it. He clasped his hands in front of himself so hard they went numb after mere seconds. Finally, Oscar bowed his head just like he knew people were supposed to do.

“Is he … _praying?!_ ” Dean’s disbelief was another discordant note in the air that almost threw Oscar’s focus. Desperation was his only shield.

Praying might be a human thing, but he _knew_ he could do it. An _Angel_ had told him so.

 

“Um,” he muttered, too quiet for Sam and Dean to hear. They both leaned closer until their faces were inches away, and Oscar’s eyes squeezed shut.

“C-Castiel, um. I’m praying,” he mumbled into his clasped hands. “I-I need help. Please. I don’t know what to do and you said to pray. Please send help…”

Silence.

“What’s he saying?” Dean whispered, several seconds after Oscar’s mumbles died down. Sam shrugged.

Then there was a rustle of air and all three occupants of the table jumped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Oscar's encounter with the Winchester brothers. This time, there's a Sam AND a Dean for him to deal with. The poor guy doesn't need that kind of stress.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel arrives at last to come to Oscar's aid. The Winchesters have some explaining to do.

Oscar looked up and sucked in a breath. Standing in the middle of the room where there had been no one before, was another human (or someone who merely looked like one). He wasn’t as giant as Sam, though he was tall on his own, especially compared to Oscar. He wore a tan trench coat over a rumpled dress shirt and slacks, and his tie was as unkempt and disheveled as his unruly black hair.

Sam and Dean both sat up straight as Castiel, Angel of the Lord, looked their way. Sam’s jaw clenched and Dean’s brow furrowed with pure bewilderment.

There was a long pause. Oscar breathed quickly and stared, hardly able to fathom that merely praying had made Castiel appear. Just as he’d appeared and then disappeared when Oscar first met him.

“Sam, Dean,” Castiel greeted, his brow set in cautious confusion.

“Cas, what’re you doing--” Dean didn’t have time to finish his question before the angel strode over to the table. He stopped right next to it, looming over Sam and Dean as much as Oscar.

Oscar tilted his head back to keep staring at Castiel’s face. He exuded that same otherworldliness that he did the last time. Oscar had almost forgotten what a strange feeling that was, but his thoughts were caught on one thing.

_He knows them? They know him?!_

“What’s going on here?” Castiel asked the three of them, his gravelly voice merely curious without a hint of accusation. Sam and Dean both stood, and Oscar finally ducked his head. He curled up once more with three giants crowded around the table.

“We could ask you the same,” Dean groused. “You said no angels would be able to track us, not even _you,_ after you went and carved--”

“I am not here for you,” Castiel interrupted. There was a pause, and Oscar peeked up to find that all three of them were looking down at him again. His cheeks turned pink and he brushed at his eye with the heel of his hand.

The realization dawned over Sam first. “You’re the one he was praying to?”

Before an answer came, Castiel’s hand left his side. Oscar let out an ungainly squeal as it reached him, the fingers curling around his frightened huddle and gathering him up. As before, Castiel was careful but quick, barely giving Oscar time to register his plan before it was in action already.

The hand snatched Oscar up from the table, but with far less urgency and uncertainty than when Sam had grabbed him. Oscar curled up for safety until the motion stopped and he was sitting on Castiel’s flat palm near his face.

Castiel glanced over him with a familiar, squinting frown. He tilted his head, and Oscar tentatively waved at him.

Finally, Castiel looked to Sam and Dean each in turn. “Oscar prayed because he was in trouble. What did you do?”

Both humans raised their eyebrows in the same shocked, defensive expression. Dean managed to sputter out an answer first. “What did _we_ do? He was sneaking around in _our_ room!”

Castiel was unconvinced. “He lives here. Humans come and leave quickly, but Oscar does not,” he glanced to Oscar as if for confirmation of his words. When he got a weak nod, he looked back to Dean expectantly.

Dean didn’t deliver another excuse. “... What.”

Castiel sighed in a very put-upon way. Then, to both Oscar and Dean’s surprise, he moved his hand close to Dean’s face so that Oscar was only inches away from it. “Do you see how you frightened him? I thought you were supposed to help save people. Not terrorize them.”

Dean and Oscar balked at the same time. While the latter was trapped up in the air on a hand, the former had room. He stepped back, bumping the table in his haste. Oscar’s brief, surprised eye contact with the human didn’t last, but they’d mirrored their surprise. At least Dean’s glare wasn’t focused on Oscar anymore.

“Dude! Personal space!” Dean demanded. His gaze trailed back to Oscar. “You don’t gotta shove him in my face an’ I doubt he wants to be that close, either.”

Castiel drew his hand closer again. Oscar braced himself on the nearby thumb as he watched between the three of them. Castiel bore a disappointed frown, something that almost seemed protective. At the very least, his appearance had stopped Sam and Dean’s weird and terrifying checklist of tests.

Oscar wasn’t sure if it was much better to be grabbed and held up while the tension of an argument built in the air, but as humans said, beggars can’t be choosers.

“I advised him to pray if he had trouble with humans,” Castiel explained. His tone lacked the scolding his words conveyed. “I did not expect him to have trouble with _you_ humans.”

“Cas, we were just trying to make sure he wasn’t a threat. We weren’t going to hurt him without knowing for sure,” Sam countered. He held his hands up placatingly, but then lowered them when he saw how Oscar shrank back from him.

Castiel squinted appraisingly, and then turned his piercing blue eyes on Oscar. Oscar’s shoulders bunched up in spite of himself. Intentionally or not, Castiel had trapped him with nowhere to hide from their scrutiny.

“Oscar is innocent,” Castiel told them. “He is unique in a world of humans, but innocent all the same.”

Oscar fidgeted. A part of him, a very small part and the source of the only defiance he had, didn’t want to let them keep talking over him. His voice was small, but he had one. He deserved to be heard before they tried to make a decision for him.

“U-um,” he said, flinching when it drew all attention back to him in an instant. His weak start was followed by a squeak as Castiel lifted him up higher again. They could all see and hear him without trouble now. Oscar felt like he was in a glaring spotlight.

“I-I-I. Um. I’m just … just Oscar,” he stammered, and as the situation caught up with him again, tears welled in his eyes and his cheeks turned pink. “I’m-I’m not _dangerous,_ I didn’t mean to sneak around. But I was _scared_ you would hurt me or lock me up.”

Sam’s expression shifted to sympathy. Despite being the most enormous person in the room, he had a kind face. It was like he knew how to switch all intimidation off. Understanding suddenly lit in his hazel eyes, and he sighed. It was a sharp contrast to his wary curiosity when he was trying to talk Oscar out from under the dresser.

Sam put his hand on his chest to indicate himself. “Oscar, I’m Sam, and that’s my brother, Dean,” he said. “We’re sorry for scaring you. We’re not gonna hurt you or lock you up, okay? We wouldn’t do that to an innocent person.” In the corner of Oscar’s eye, Castiel nodded once in apparent approval.

“Riddle me this, Oz,” Dean chimed in. He waited until he had Oscar’s attention before raising his eyebrows expectantly. Somehow, Oscar _felt_ the pressure of that expression. “If you’re scared of us, what were you doing out in the room at all? It’s not a good risk. If it had been someone else, they might not have been as warm and welcoming as us.”

Oscar’s cheeks warmed. Somehow, Dean had gone from brandishing a silver knife at him to scolding him about how dangerous humans were.

“I-I know that!” Oscar protested. “I’ve been coming out to the rooms for food and supplies for years, I just didn’t think you’d see me!”

Dean’s frown only deepened, and Oscar shrank back. “You mean you gotta scavenge for _garbage_ to get by?”

Oscar averted his gaze to stare at his cloth-wrapped feet where they settled on Castiel’s palm. Everything about him was drab and shabby, all made from secondhand material. Well-worn, he’d heard someone say before. He didn’t think all of his possessions were _garbage._

The hand under him shifted. Oscar looked up to find Castiel’s fingers curling closer as the angel spoke up again. “It is not for us to judge how someone survives,” he mused. “I have seen many things in the search for my Father. Oscar’s way of life is not the strangest I have witnessed.”

“Alright,” Sam conceded with the tone of someone trying to stop an argument before it began. “That’s fine. It was all a misunderstanding. No big deal, right?”

Castiel tilted his head, and for a moment his strange aura returned. Oscar wondered if he understood the phrase. Castiel squinted thoughtfully, and then lifted his hand up abruptly. Oscar squeaked and clung to his thumb to stay upright.

“Is this correct? Are you no longer frightened now?” he asked.

On the spot, Oscar didn’t know how to respond. He glanced to Dean and Sam again. Both of them stared right back at him, though now they sported more confusion than wariness. A lot had happened in the course of several minutes to completely change how things had gone.

Castiel might have come to his rescue, but Oscar was still afraid. He shook his head. “W-well, I, um. It’s still scary,” he admitted.

“I can assure you, these are good men,” Castiel replied. His voice was as gravelly as ever, but Oscar could hear an attempt to speak gently for him. “Even if you had not prayed for help, I believe they would have let you go.”

“Y’know. Eventually,” Dean admitted. His apologetic smirk was met with a bitchface from Sam.

Oscar shot Dean one more wary look, but he didn’t see a lie there. Castiel might be keeping Oscar way off the ground on a hand, but his protective grab had done a lot to change Sam and Dean’s attitudes. Where before they were bristled and untrusting, now they showed some remorse, even if their curiosity remained.

That, at least, he couldn’t fault them for. Any human would be curious if they found him out.

“Should I set you down so you can return to the walls?” Castiel asked, his hand steady as ever as he watched Oscar for an answer.

“Wait,” Sam interrupted. Oscar flinched and any answer he would have supplied was startled back into him.

Sam scooped up Oscar’s bag from where he’d left it on the table. It was so tiny on his palm as he stared down at it, threadbare as ever. His huge thumb curled inward to nudge at it before he pinched it to hold it out to Oscar. “You’ll probably want this back,” he said. “We didn’t even get a chance to check out what’s in it, but I’m guessing your supplies are in there?”

Oscar scooted to the edge of Castiel’s hand so he could reach out and take the offered bag. His hands twitched and for a moment, he feared that Sam would lunge for him.

He didn’t. Oscar retrieved the bag and put the strap over his shoulder quickly. He was glad to have it back. It offered familiarity in a situation that had rapidly left “familiar” far behind.

“I, um. Yeah, I keep my stuff in here …” he answered. One hand settled over the flap hiding things from view within. It was heavier than usual, and Oscar finally remembered the reason he’d run into Sam and Dean’s room in the first place.

“I … didn’t come into this room lookin’ for food,” he admitted. His cheeks turned pink and he retreated to Castiel’s palm. In case they didn’t like what he had to say, he sought safety with the angel for a small while longer. “I was gonna try to, um. Get into your bag and leave when you left.”

There was a pause. Sam’s brow pinched thoughtfully, while Dean raised an eyebrow. However, it was Castiel that broke the silence first. “Oscar, you told me yourself that it is not safe for you to leave the motel. This seems like a very ill-advised plan.”

Oscar’s cheeks warmed up even more and his shoulders bunched up. “I-I know,” he said. “I thought they were just drifters. I see people like that all the time, so I thought they’d be my fastest way to get away because I _have_ to leave, it’s not safe anymore, they’re already breaking the wall a few rooms over and I don’t want to get caught in a trap!”

His rambled outburst, earnest and as frantic as he’d been since they caught him, inspired some recognition in Sam and Dean’s eyes. They shared a glance, and then Dean nodded almost to himself. “That pest control van,” he surmised. “They must be doin’ something that scared him out here in the first place.”

“Pest control,” Castiel echoed the words almost hesitantly, as though the phrase was entirely new to him. Oscar had no idea how much the angel actually knew about human ways. Probably not even as much as Oscar, who only had a view from the vents in the walls, and only ever saw humans when they were on their way to somewhere else.

Now _he_ needed to be just like them, finding a new destination. The overwhelming melancholy returned, and his shoulders sagged. Taking away the stress of his capture only revealed the stress of his situation underneath.

“Th-they’re gonna set traps and maybe even put poison in the walls,” he lamented. His voice wound up with emotion and the tears spilled over his cheeks again, silently this time. “My house … I can’t go back to my house. I lived here since forever and now I can’t and I don’t know where I’m gonna _go._ ”

“Oscar,” Castiel said, his rough voice quieted to a raspy whisper. Oscar looked up in time to see the other hand approaching with the first two fingers extended. Like when they’d first met, Castiel gently touched Oscar’s forehead.

A peaceful feeling washed over him like a sigh, more peace than Oscar had felt inside for a long time. His eyelids drooped, and he lost consciousness before he finished taking a breath.

~~~

Castiel frowned thoughtfully as the absolutely tiny person on his palm slumped to the side. Oscar’s little chest (too thin for even his miniscule height) moved in a slow rhythm of deep sleep. It was the only help Castiel could think to offer against the rising panic.

He nudged at Oscar’s shoulder to straighten out his back and settle him in a less awkward position where he slept. The little guy didn’t even mumble in his sleep to show he’d noticed.

When Castiel looked up, Sam and Dean were watching him with familiar expressions, like they were waiting for his next strange action. They were wary around him as always, but that was fairly common. People who knew when they were looking at an angel in a vessel and not a real human tended to be guarded.

“Well?” Dean asked. His lack of reverence used to be jarring, but Castiel was getting more used to it. That determination had inspired some of Castiel’s own actions in the fight to stop the end of days.

“He was panicking,” Castiel explained. “I did not rebel so I can abandon a soul in need.”

Dean’s eyebrows raised and he shrugged, exasperated.”That’s great, man. How are you gonna help him in the long run?”

Castiel didn’t respond, because he didn’t have an answer for that yet. He glanced back down at his palm before he used his free hand to open up the trench coat he wore. With care, he lowered Oscar into one of the empty inner pockets, where he could sleep hidden away. For now, he needed peace, not worry about things happening around him that he couldn’t control.

Castiel did not understand everything that a human thought or did, but he was trying. His purpose was to protect all of Creation. Oscar deserved his help just as much.

Sam perked up and reached out to lightly tap his brother’s arm. Human gestures like that, Castiel realized, had layers of meaning. Sam caught Dean’s attention, and at the same time galvanized them both to formulate a plan, all with one simple touch. “We have our suits. We could be any higher-up we need to be to get the pest control to leave, then Oscar can stay in his home.”

Inexplicably, Dean understood immediately. It was a mystery that Castiel could always count on. “Might work,” Dean mused. “We might as well see what fake IDs we have lying around for it. I dunno … _what_ Oscar is, but I guess we owe him one. And while we’re out, we can get him a damn _cheeseburger._ ”

With a decision made, the brothers broke their small gathering, Sam with an assuring nod and Dean with one last glance at where Castiel’s pocket concealed an entire person. There were no outward signs that Oscar was even in there. Castiel could barely feel his tiny weight in the pocket.

“I will wait here,” Castiel told them. The brothers, already determined to do what they could, barely nodded to him as they went about gathering their things.

Patience came easy for a being as old as he was. He hardly noticed the time coming and going as the brothers left. Whatever plan they enacted, he could always help alter someone’s memory if he needed to.

While they were gone, he stared at the window. The sky outside was already darkening from the gentle shadow of twilight, and the day would soon turn to night. There were a lot of things out there that Castiel could be doing to fight, but aligning himself with the Winchesters had taught him something that he hadn’t even been fully aware of the first time he met Oscar. They fought small battles, one at a time, because sometimes it was all they _could_ do.

This time, he _could_ do something. As the tiny shape in his pocket shifted and curled up tighter in his sleep, Castiel knew it was the right thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally we get to see what Castiel thinks of those Winchesters messing around with his smol buddy! How could they scare him like that? He is little and innocent!

**Author's Note:**

> It seemed like Quiet as a Mouse, my first ever attempt at writing Castiel, went over quite well. Oscar had a bit of a tough time then, but he earned an ally.
> 
> I have a feeling he's going to need that friend sometime soon. I couldn't resist throwing the Winchesters at him after that.


End file.
